Dialogue with Sister Laurel

Thanks to Sr. Laurel for responding to my query re her post on mysticism. Her response was very beautiful, well-thought-out, and reasonable. Read it here. And yet . . . .

It is funny. I agree and yet disagree at the same time with most of her text. I suppose it goes back to (what she says so rightly) is the surprising nature of God: he manifests himself to each of us uniquely and who is to say which is good, better, best for a particular individual? He is the lover and we are the beloved. He comes to us each as a unique creation. And I emphatically agree that we must not enter into prayer with expectation per se: we let him do his work. Although I suppose there are degrees of expectation. "I expect to push my body to the extreme and i expect to sweat and breathe hard and my body will begin to respond" and yet we are open to the result. By the same token, we can enter through that door by the grace of another's guidance and go to the 'temple' inside and be open, and see what happens--but expecting to rend open one's heart and bleed and sweat and THEN see what happens.

At any rate, I do think Sr. and I have cleared up the semantic issues and gotten down to the meat. It appears that we disagree that the ecstatic union with the Divine that she categorizes as 'mystical' is a relatively rare experience, or need be. Conversely, I believe that the ecstatic can 'invade' our everyday life---in my own experience, it is both voluntary and 'involuntary' prayer--both sought after and unexpected visions, secret knowledge, desperate passion, etc. For me, in this stage of life, it is a daily thing. Not that every day is the same--nor does he approach me in the same way every day. And yes, of course, there are surprises; big ones. But I still maintain that at least as for myself, we can live on the mountaintop and sojourn in the valley at the same time. Although I admit, it is a strange existence.

I also have a 'contemplative' (apophatic) prayer life, although for me it is almost the inverse. These experiences of profound quiet and peacefulness are for me more rare. Well.

At any rate, I DO agree that a 'whiz-bang' prayer life is not indicative of spiritual (or any other kind of) maturity. Too bad. That would be a great 'built-in' option. Nope. We're all slogging along with our yolks, sometimes heavy, sometimes light.

So, while in my own experience, my day begins and ends and is punctuated by ecstatic and vivid visions, trembling, fear and joy, and more--it doesn't get the laundry done by itself nor does it bring me my material needs. Thus, I guess in Sr. Laurel's reference, I have had to learn to ascend and descend the mountain quickly. Or, perhaps, I've lucked out and been able to bring the mountain with me. Or, perhaps I have the valley in my heart while on the mountain. I don't know. AND YET, this openness has had the tendency to move my feet in directions I had not planned. So the openness I experience in my 'mystical' life, absolutely has made a tremendous difference in my life: it just hasn't made it any less fraught with peril or conundrum: just different ones than I likely would have had otherwise.

Further, there are always gradations. So, although my life seems to be lived between the holes in the fabric of life, and this Terran world to me seems more and more like an elaborate 'Star Trek'-kian holodeck rouse, I still love mowing my lawn, pruning the bushes, and I still worry about money, etc., etc.

But I will venture one thing further: I have a hunch--I'll admit not a well-thought-out opinion--but a hunch, that this life of ecstasy and visions and profound daily 'mystical' union with god, is something that all men and all women, and perhaps even all children, could, and perhaps, should, experience. Is there a reason why this should not be the case other than for ignorance and lack of 'gatherer's/teachers'? Why should this precious ladder not be climbed by us all? Are we not all priests before his eyes? Are we not all prophets? Are we not all Christ? Then let us be ourselves, and be Him, and live to our utmost. The ecstatic life is open to all. Although I can't say I have any basis for the belief.

On the other hand, I suppose some would say the same thing about extreme sports or physical fitness: to me, an hour's walk a day is the MAXIMUM. Three hours' prayer snuck in between my worldly duties (and they are many) is my FLOOR. So we are all craftsman, I suppose, in this great edifice of holiness. But as for me, I will keep trying to pry open doors, just a little, in everyone. We are creatures of fire and water, mind and power; this mere vegetable 'flesh-sack'--beautiful and wondrous as it appears--is as nothing to that glorious body, which exists NOW NOW NOW.

OK. Whoops. Got carried away there . . . .

Peace.

p

Well. That's just one layman's perspective.

7.6.10

cry not out for god.
he is here, child, here, always.

there is no glass. there is no separation.

there is only joining. there is only coupling. there is only nakedness between us.

our voices one, our eyes see as one, our hair flowing together as we stand on the precipice.

do you not yet see?

we cry out as babes cry. not because we seek god. but because,

but because, he is i, and i see all, and my eyes, lidless, my ears, with no hands to cover them.

my skin, with no way to stop his caresses.

we are full, full to brim with God. awake now, gently. you have not yet used your legs.

fear not to fall. the earth will move to catch you.

fear not to stumble, the grass is new and lush.

feel his soft blowing on your neck. if too much for you, you may sleep awhile. return to your waking when you do not fear so much.

and you will see, you will see the goodness, the light, and that dark here is wondrous.

oh please, please, return often. for we miss you when you sleep, sweet.

7.6.10

For unto us a CHILD is born. Unto us a SON is given.
And his name shall be WONDER-COUNSELOR.

Every morn' the advent of ADONAI in my heart.
Every breaking of the fast, the first from a parched 40 days.
Every prayer the first rain of spring on a weary land.
Each noon the sun's virgin journey!
Each dusk, the first traverse of newly-arrived ancient spirits across the land,
with trepidation and wonder.

Each night, my first duel with my demons.
Each sleep, my first death, my first longing after the FACE.
Each morn', i am the child. my breath as fire and water.
My sweat as blood and tears.
My ablutions my holy anointing for the sepulcher.
Morning and evening and morning; the first day.